


Drake Mallard

by John_Q_Sample



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991)
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, House Hunting, Moving, Nightmares, Orphanages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 04:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Q_Sample/pseuds/John_Q_Sample
Summary: Given how long he's been nothing other than Darkwing Duck, it'll take him some time to get used to being Drake Mallard again.





	Drake Mallard

Without his mask on his face, he feels naked. Like one of those dreams where you realize you went to school with nothing but your underwear on.

Well, he’s never had one of those dreams, but he imagines it would feel like this.

To him, Drake Mallard really isn’t...him. Sure, it’s his legal name and what people at high school would call him, but—and he hates to admit it—that was a long time ago. He left home at eighteen and immediately began studying self-defense and criminal investigation. He’s been Darkwing Duck and nothing else for years now.

But Darkwing Duck doesn’t look good on adoption papers, and for Gosalyn, he’s willing to drop the mask. Take up a normal life and a fake occupation. Sure, he’ll play by their rules.

He just wants Gosalyn to have a home, the life she deserves and could have had if Taurus Bulba hadn’t gotten involved.

This is all for her.

*

The car doors slam closed.

“Darkwing Duck!” Gosalyn cries, throwing her arms around him once more. She already tackled him to the ground in a hug only a few minutes ago, but that’s not enough. She’s just  _ so _ glad that he’s alive.

Drake reciprocates the hug with his uninjured arm. “Maybe lay off the ‘Darkwing Duck’ for now. We don’t want to put my identity at risk, eh?”

Gosalyn grins. “Dad?”

“Sure.”

“Dad!” She hugs him tighter.

Drake can't help the smile twitching onto his beak. Is it normal to be this happy? “Love you too, Gosalyn. Now, you better get in the backseat and buckle up. The...roads are risky these days.”

It’s not the roads but Launchpad’s driving. Even with the seatbelt, Gosalyn is nearly tossed out of the window when Launchpad first starts the car. He hits the brakes, apologizes, and starts driving at a calmer pace than before.

Once they're on their way, Gosalyn brooches the question, "How did you survive the explosion?"

“That's the thing. I almost didn’t. I got as far away from it as I could, but I still got most of the blast. The paramedics found me. I was in the hospital for a week! I’m sorry I couldn’t come here earlier.”

“You’re here now!" Gosalyn leans forward as far as the seatbelt will allow her to go. "So what are we doing next? Are we going to the hideout?”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t lying when I told Miss Kavanaugh we’re going house-hunting.”

“That’s boring!”

“Well, we have to live  _ some _ where, right?” Drake twists around in his seat to look at Gosalyn. “What would a social worker say if they saw you were living on top of a bridge?” He glances at Launchpad. “That’s a thing, right?”

Launchpad shrugs.

“Oh, alright. But you’re keeping the hideout, right?”

“Darkwing Duck can’t live without a hideout! He’ll just...not sleep there. It’ll be a strictly business-only building. I...guess.”

This is going to take some time to get used to.

*

The neighbors come with an apple pie wrapped in tin foil.

“My name’s Binkie Muddlefoot, and this is my husband, Herb.”

“You must be the new neighbor! Are ya just moving in?”

Drake looks back at the cardboard boxes crowding his entry hall. Then he returns his attention to the canary and goose at the door. “Yes?”

“May we come in?”

“Sure.”

Drake hobbles back into the house as the couple enters.

“Here’s an apple pie,” Binkie says. “Consider it a housewarming gift!” She’s about to put it in his arms, but the one that isn’t hanging in a sling is busy supporting himself on his crutch. “Say, why don’t you take us to your kitchen?”

“Yeah, sure. Follow me.”

“So what happened to you, pal?” Herb asks, patting him on the back.

Drake narrows his eyes. The goose’s voice hurts his ears, and he doesn't really like being touched from strangers. “I believe it was a...motorcycle crash.”

“Oh, bad crash. You ride?”

“Yes?”

“That’s fantastic!”

“Uh, you, too?”

“Nope.”

Drake shakes his head. Is this just what suburbanites are like?

“You should have told us you were in such a state,” Binkie says, gesturing towards his various bandages and ailments. “We could’ve helped you unpack!”

“Don’t worry. I have help.”

Binkie makes space on the counter. “How do you mean?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. But he’d rather these two not return to his house to help put away his things; he’s already not particularly fond of them. “My friend, Launchpad McQuack. He’s been helping with unpacking and driving. And my daughter!”

“You have a daughter?”

Too much.

“We have two sons,” Binkie says.

“Tanker and Honker! I’m sure you’d love them.”

“Maybe she and they would be friends!”

“Yeah, maybe.”

*

Gosalyn meets Honker two days later. She accidentally pitches a hockey puck into the Muddlefoots’ yard and nearly skates right into him when she tries to get it back.

“You’re, um, the new people who moved in,” Honker says.

Gosalyn sits down in front of him. “One of them.”

“I’m Honker Muddlefoot.”

“I’m Gosalyn Mallard.”

“Uh, nice to meet you.”

Gosalyn shrugs and leans back, propping herself up on her hands. “Is there anything fun to do around here?”

“I, uh, I dunno. I used to shoot rockets, but my brother Tanker kind of ruined it.”

“That sucks.”

“A lot of people here are just old people. Tanker and I are pretty much the only kids in this, um, subdivision,” Honker explains. “Where did you used to live?”

“St. Canard’s orphanage!”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t bad. And I always had friends there!” She says this part grouchily. There's hardly anyone here.

“We can be friends.”

“Oh, definitely. Hey, do you like any sports?”

“Uh, not really, but sometimes Tanker makes me play soccer with him.”

Gosalyn’s not sure if that’s a good thing. “So what kind of stuff do you like?”

“Um...science.”

“Really?” Gosalyn perks up. “My grandpa was a scientist!”

“He was?”

“Dr. Waddlemeyer, the best inventor and scientist in St. Canard!” she says proudly. She jumps to her feet and balances on her skates. “I still have some of his stuff in my room. Wanna come see?”

Honker throws his book aside. “Let’s, uh, let’s go!”

*

Drake doesn't have a lot of personal effects. His prized possession is probably his bed, which he had Launchpad take from the hideout. There's a single newspaper clipping of Darkwing Duck's supposed death that Launchpad gave to him. There's clothing, the new outfits he bought for the sake of this Drake Mallard persona. There's his crutch.

He thought it was fine, but looking at Gosalyn's room, he begins to wonder if it just looks empty. She has signs she made and toys and supplies for every sport known to man, except perhaps ballet. With her room, it seems like there's an actual person living there.

With his room, it's just like some sort of hospital bed or something.

Who's Drake Mallard, anyway?

*

Drake skids into the room and stumbles, nearly hitting the wall and knocking over a hockey stick in the process.

“What is it, Gos? Who’s there?”

Gosalyn sits frozen with fright. “It was just a nightmare, Dad.”

Her voice is hollow, marred by the fears of her dream and the sudden entrance on her father's part.

Drake approaches her and sits on the foot of the bed. “Sorry, Gos. I thought it was a bad guy or something.” Taurus Bulba's men taking her again?

She rubs her eyes. “Is your foot okay?”

He’s wearing a boot rather than a cast, and he can walk on it now. Walk, not run. “I think it’s fine. What was your nightmare about.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods tiredly and lies back down again. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can you sing the lullaby again? Just this night.”

She’s asked a few times before, and he’s always done it.

“Of course, Gos. Just this night!”

*

“At last, I have located that lightbulb-loving larcenist! His lair is—oh, boy. Gosalyn, who’s this?”

Two kids sit confusedly on a couch facing an even more confused Darkwing Duck.

Gosalyn stares innocently up at her father. “Honker Muddlefoot, the neighbor’s kid. He’s my friend, remember?”

“Right.” Darkwing scratches the side of his head. “Um, this is awkward.”

Finally, it clicks. Honker exclaims, “You’re Darkwing Duck!”

“That’s right!” Darkwing recovers from his shock. “And I’m here at this complete  _ stranger’s _ home on important business, so—”

“Dad, really?” Gosalyn says, raising an eyebrow.

“Jeez, Gos, you gave up my secret identity!”

“You already did that yourself!”

“I didn’t think you had anyone here.”

“What did you think I meant when I said, ‘Hey Dad, can Honker come over?’”

“I didn’t hear you! I just said ‘okay’!”

“I won’t, uh, tell anyone,” Honker says.

Gosalyn and Darkwing look at him.

“Problem solved!” Gosalyn says triumphantly, crossing her arms. "Now, can we come with you to catch this 'lightbulb-loving larcenist'?"


End file.
